Or maybe it was just foreplay. Because straddling his hips definitely turned me on.
“Permission to keep holding you like this all night?” Boone tried again after kissing my breastbone and the side of my neck.
I laughed, not answering. He carried me back to the cluster of tables where our friends sat.
“You have the most incredible voice. Where’d you learn to sing?” He sank into a chair, keeping me straddled around his waist.
It was a lot of PDA, but no one seemed to mind.
In fact, all we got were encouraging smiles from everyone.
No one seemed to think Boone was a red flag. Natalie wasn’t steering me away. None of the other women were. None of the men, either. Wouldn’t the alpha of the pack prevent me from being with a pack member who was dangerous?
I should relax. Stop finding possible issues and just see where this was going between us. Boone wasn’t Marty.
I wasn’t the clueless twenty year old woman who fell for him either.
I was wiser. I knew my worth. My heart.
Natalie answered for me, since I was somewhere in la la land eyeing Boone. “Summer writes her own songs. She’s a professional musician.”
I felt the painful constriction in my chest around talk of my music career. Or lack of. “No, I’m not,” I said quickly. “I mean–I dabbled. Very past tense.”
“Bullshit,” Natalie said, picking up her pint glass. “She has massive talent, and it’s only in the past because of your ex. It’s time for you to shine, girlfriend!”
A young woman and her friends got up on the stage and started singing a terrible rendition of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” It was hard not to cringe, but they looked like they were having fun, and that was what music was about.
“You’re opening for the Barn Cats tomorrow night. It’s a done deal.” Natalie fixed me with a stern look.
I hadn’t agreed, yet, but she kept pushing me. Now, with Boone looking at me with encouragement–plus everyone around the table from Wolf Ranch–I caved. “Okay,” I agreed.
Boone studied me. “I can’t wait to hear more. Music is important to you.” His brows drew together when he must have put some things together. “You give it up for him?” He asked in a low voice, and our friends looked away to give us privacy.
The surprise at having someone I’d only known for twenty-four hours call out my most painful secret made my stomach lurch up and lodge between my ribs. I glanced away.
Boone must’ve read the answer in my shocked silence because a ripple of anger contorted his face. I felt a growl rumble in his chest.
It occurred to me that I should be scared–he truly looked terrifying when he was mad, but I somehow wasn’t. Maybe it was because his arms tightened protectively around me. Maybe it was because I understood he was angry on my behalf.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. How foolish I’d been. “Marty didn’t like anything in my life that he thought was more important than he was,” I admitted. I felt ashamed when I said it. My voice sounded wounded. It hurt to even speak the words although I’d hashed through as much with Natalie over the last couple of months. Every day I was in Cooper Valley, I thanked God for having a friend like Natalie, who gave me a place to live, hooked me up with a job, and helped me get back on my feet while I filed for divorce.
Boone’s jaw clenched. “If he ever shows up here, I will rip his arms right off his body,” he growled.
It was such a vivid image that I smiled although I suspected Boone might actually be capable of such a feat. Judging from what I saw when he tore the legs off the broken bed last night, he had superhuman strength.
I stroked his soft beard. He was such a grumpy, growly giant, and he wanted to be mine.
“You’re more important than any man,” Boone declared.
I stared at him. Did he mean himself included?
“Your talent is amazing, and I only heard one song. Your music is important to you. You’re not gonna stop because some baby-man didn’t get enough attention from you, are you?”
His characterization of Marty wrung a smile from me. Natalie had asked the same question, but I’d felt too discouraged, too defeated when she asked it. All I could think about was getting through the divorce and being rid of him for good. Earning enough money to pay off the lawyer and start paying rent to Natalie and Rand.
But the way Boone asked it made me feel brave. Like Marty was insignificant.
Was my music important? “I guess…” I tried to wrap my thoughts around the shame and pain that shrouded music. “I sort of feel like my music career was what trapped me with Marty.”
